


Darling, Your Ring Is Missing

by Tunaqueen



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/M, TOUFCKINKEN, Tokyo Ghoul: re, Touken, just deep sighs all around, sad nostalgic things bc oh god, why cant we have nice things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3660633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tunaqueen/pseuds/Tunaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Kaneki?" A cup of coffee spills and breaks, and his heart aches. Even now, he can't place these lingering feelings, and the ache is his heart is still heavy. However, when he looks at her, and sees a possibility. A future, even. –Haise Sasaki and Touka Kirishima/Touken. TG:re. Rated T for Touka's cursing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

These lingering, aching feelings are cause of my sleepless nights.

It’s an itch in the middle of my back. They’re always there, nagging at me, constantly letting me know they’re still there, and I can’t scratch it to make it go away. 

My memories are that itch.

Naturally, I should want them to return. I should wish for my memories to come back to me, like any normal person would, but yet…

I don’t want them. I never want them to come back. 

Instead, I’m afraid. This is one of the few things I am absolutely certain about; I am completely and utterly afraid of my memories. The looming question is if I regain my memories, would I ever be the same person again? Would I be able to keep my friends—my family close by my side? 

I doubt it. I really do.

For the sake of my life, I beg for them to be trapped away forever. True, perhaps I’ll die without ever knowing who I ever was, but if I had protected my friends and myself because of it, I’ll have no regrets. 

Throughout my everyday life, I can feel that painful ache in my chest. When I drank coffee for the first time in my two years, my heart ached so bad I believed it would burst. To this day, I’ve thought and thought and thought about why it elicited such a reaction from me, but I’ve come up with nothing. 

All I know now is that it’s important to me. As small and insignificant as coffee is (my subordinates have reminded me all too well), it’s one of the only things that brings me and settles me down in a comfortable peace. Unfortunately, it’s difficult for me to make a proper cup in the morning, since I’m always so rushed! It’s such a shame, really. Black coffee is simply so bitter and strong (not that I don’t enjoy it).

I suppose it makes my trips to :re all the more sweet.

I’m making a trip there today. It’s a pleasant Sunday morning, and, for once, I finally have my morning off. I don’t start work until later in the afternoon. Everyone else took it as their queue to sleep in, but I’m certain my body clock is locked and set to waking up at six in the morning. It’s not a problem, it just…happens to make me a very sleep-deprived individual. But, like I said, it’s not a problem! Remember, I have black coffee every day in the morning. 

However, I saved my first cup of the day for the café. I open the door slowly, making sure not to make too much noise, since the hinges are squeaky. The little golden bell connected to the door gives a soft, gentle ding. The place is empty, not even with a speck of dust to be seen. As expected, I guess. It has only just opened five minutes ago.

I—no. I can’t believe I missed it. There’s another person here, and it’s the very…very, beautiful waitress. She’s slouching behind the sleek, dark counter, wiping her eyes and making groggy noises. She lets out a large, stretched out yawn, flings her arms up into the air, and stretches. Her eyes squeeze shut in her yawn.

“Yomo? That you?” she asks loudly. I should really say something, shouldn’t I?

“Um, actually, it’s…” What should I say? “…a customer,” I finish finally. Her eyes flash open, and in the back her throat, she makes a small choking noise. It would be rude to say, but it’s honestly a little funny. She straightens her posture quickly, obviously trying to appear unfazed. 

“Back again, I see,” she states as if she’s been expecting me. I would be surprised if she didn’t—I’ve kind of been trying to come here at least once a week. “The usual?”

“Aha hah, that would be great,” I laugh. She doesn’t laugh as I have, but she smiles, and does so gently. She opens cabinets to retrieve cream, sugar and such, so I take it as a nice time to seat myself. 

Every time I come, there’s always this sad feeling about her. I’ve asked Tooru if he’d noticed the same, but he shrugged it off and called me funny. (Typical.) I wonder, if he can’t feel it, can’t he see it? Although she shows only one of her eyes, I see enough melancholy in it for a pair. I’m sure I’m not the cause of her sadness. No, I mean…I pray I’m not the reason she hurts. 

The same ache always comes back whenever I see her. Whether it’s a glance or a gaze, the pain is the same. It’s brought me to the sole conclusion that she must’ve been someone precious in my past life. I’m just too afraid to bring it up. I can’t face my fears head on like that yet. Yet. 

I wait for her to make the coffee in a slow, light silence. One of the things that serves me a plate of peace is this place, and I find it proves even more so when it’s just her and I. Because I come so early in the morning, it’s usually empty when I come in, and that’s true relief for me.

I’m not attempting to be creepy, but my gaze keeps drifting over to her, even when I forcefully look away. Her hands when brewing the coffee are so loose, yet stressfully precise at the same time. I imagine someone amazing taught her, or she’s been doing this for years. Or both. Her dark hair hangs limply on the back on her bare neck, and the skin there and everywhere is pale.

“Ah, thank you!” I smile gratefully as she walks toward me with a coffee in hand. It’s a delicate, white mug sitting innocently on a small, thin, and glossy white plate. “Alright, um—I’m sorry, but how much is it again...? I keep forgetting,” I laugh nervously. Every single time, like a curse, I forget the price. I’ve never had memory problems before, and when I say that, I’m referring to my short-term memory. As ironic of a joke it would’ve been, I must resist the urge.

“It’s 3.50,” she replies, “but,” I swear I see determination in her eyes, “I don’t want your money!” Her voice suddenly rises sharply to a shout, and her words I don’t want your money reverberate off the walls. Her eyebrows are slanted high in what resembles an odd mix of angry and determined. It’s somehow—I don’t know why, but it’s somehow very—very familiar—

“You idiot,” Touka snapped angrily, swiftly flicking my forehead. I winced and rubbed the spot on my reddened forehead with my fingers. “This coffee you made isn’t even drinkable anymore. You’ve added way too much cream.” She sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m just trying to make it better, kinda like Mr. Yoshimura’s! He’s just…too skilled, I guess.”

“And that’s the truth,” she agreed without a second’s thought. “He’s been doing this longer than any of us have. Nor you or I can make coffee like his!” She shuffled around impatiently for a moment and smoothed out the wrinkles in her clothes. I noticed she always did that when she was searching for something to say.

“Touka-chan?”

“Y’know what? I’m going to help you make another cup.” It might’ve just been an illusion, but her voice sounded just a little bit quieter. 

“Oh, thank you! You’re too kind, Touka-chan!” I smiled brightly. I barely saw it, but a dark blush stained her cheeks. I could tell she knew I saw, because she socked me on the arm. “Ow, ow…” 

“Come on, we can’t keep the customer waiting,” I swore I heard a little sunshine in her voice, “stupid Kane—” 

“Shit, I raised my voice again. I’m sorry, that was…Hello?”

She stands in front me, her expression redrawn with curiosity. Her figure suddenly looks so much clearer than usual, and all the new details I’ve never noticed are rather blinding. Like the small scar she has the tip of the right ring finger, and the mark of what looks like a tight rubber or maybe a ring on the same finger. I see how dark the shadows her long eyelashes cast. Her pink-stained lips are dry and chapped. They open and close, forming words and creating sentences, but I can’t hear them.

I’m numb everywhere, but the exception is a sharp ache in my chest that’s never been there before. It’s piercing like the sharpest of words. I speak for the pain and my lost memories and the words that have been on the tip of my tongue this entire time:

“Touka-chan?”

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Silence.

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No—no, I shouldn’t have said that. My throat burns like I’ve just coughed up a drop of stomach acid, and my stomach feels like I just ate live octopus. It’s disgusting, but this disgust isn’t because of her or of us, but because of me. I don’t know why, but I feel I’ve just done something horrible. 

Her eyes widen hugely in raw horror. Her hands tremble like a staggering earthquake, and there’s the crashing sound of shattering glass. I look briefly at the floor, only to have a glimpse a broken mug and plate. A bead of blood oozes from the scar on her ring finger. 

Apologies pour out of my mouth, because now I’m sure I’ve done something cruel. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry, are you alright? Here, I have a Band-Aid in my back pocket probably, er—I’m sorry. I don’t have it.” I sigh. “…I don’t…know why I said that.” It’s just a name, but yet…

Tears drip down her face one by one, and then, all at once. Her eyes are glassy with a lake of tears, and the dam collapses with a tremble and a violent shudder. She steps away, her knees shaking.

She gasps quickly, and then she tries to hold her breath as she could stop everything, but she hiccups still. She holds a hand to her face to stifle the tears. Her other hand clenches in a tight fist by her side and it trembles.

I stand up, and I carefully shove the glass away in a pile to the side so I can stand in front of her. Her head is hung low, her hair shadowing her face. Was it her name I said? But, why would her name, out of everything, make me feel so odd?

“Kaneki!” 

There’s a sudden impact on my chest, and it takes me a second too long to realize she’s hugging me. She’s hiccupping quietly and murmuring something I can’t hear. What did she call me?

“I told them all you’d come back, I knew it I knew it,” she mumbles in my chest. “You asshole, you asshole I’ve missed you somuchdoyouhaveanyidea—” she gasps deeply. “Damnit, what the hell took you so long? I knew you weren’t de…” I can’t hear the last word. Her arms wrap around my torso and her hands meet in the middle of my back. Her grip is rather tight.

She murmurs the name I can’t hear over and over, and it’s beginning to sound like a mantra. 

Since I’m there and I know she’s someone important, I stand there rubbing circles on her back and listening to her cry. She stops talking and the only sound is her quiet sniffling. It hurts, more than anything, to see her like this. The sadness she wears shares itself with me, and it’s painful and broken-glass sharp. 

Out of all the things I’ve felt, this feeling of her is probably the realist feeling to me. 

This time, I’m certain—

She must have been one of my most precious people. 

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She’s my most precious person...


	2. Chapter 2

After all that’s happened, it’s hard to believe I’m back at :re. 

I feel like I shouldn’t be here, that I’m the odd one out of the perfect equation. And, that actually might be true. Not just at work or in society, but at this café. I feel like an intruder, but yet, I can’t stop myself from going back.

It might be because of her. No, I know it’s because of her, the waitress. In all my thoughts, there’s no if’s or but’s about it all, but just hard, solid fact. Then and now, she feels so real and true to me. I fear that she’s too good, so good that she’ll be gone by morning.

When I heard about a huge error in the morning process at work, I felt overwhelming relief. This was because of two reasons: First, I didn’t have to go to work until later, and second, I was given an opportunity to see her again.

“I’m here to apologize,” I recite to myself quietly as I stand in front of :re’s front door. “I’m here to apologize and then maybe stay for a coffee. Nothing more, nothing less.” The inside of my stomach must be lined in ice, for it feels so cold. I take a deep breath, and cover my face in my hands. 

I’ve been out here for twenty minutes. 

“I have to go in,” I murmur, because it’s the truth. Two weeks have already flown by since the last time I came. Those fourteen days may as well been as eternity. “Okay. I’m heading in.”

In all my sensitive nerves, I swing the door open with an unexpected force. The bells clangs deafeningly and the rusty hinges give a strained, irritable screech. I almost flinch when the waitress, behind the counter again, turns to look at me. She doesn’t do as well of a job, as she jolts back into the counter behind her.

“Good morning,” she says in a tight voice. A thin smile stretches across her lips. “It’s been a while.”

“Good morning,” I reply thickly. “Yeah, it’s been a while.” I had a script for this very conversation. I had it memorized in my brain, but my mind’s gone blank. I can’t summon right words. So instead, I stand there mindlessly, trying to sort out my thoughts. Luckily, she isn’t even looking at me. Her twiddling thumbs are clearly more interesting. 

“…What’s the bag for?” she asks after a while. In the crook of my bent elbow lays a small, brown paper with little crinkles. Ah, I completely forgot about that, but it’s the reason I came here. 

I stride over to the counter, balancing the teetering bag on my arm. The low heels of my shoes click against the hardwood floor. Her gaze feels like a weight against my tight chest. I barely know her, I tell myself. She barely knows me, I reason. She’s practically a stranger. 

Yet, as much as I would like to believe that, the distant ache refuses to let me. 

“This bag’s for you. I mean, not the bag itself,” I sputter, “but what’s inside the bag.” It’s barely been ten seconds since I walked in, and I’ve already messed up my lines. I’ll just have to roll with it.

“I told you, you didn’t have to,” she sighs, but her softened eyes and little bright smile say otherwise. I set the bag on the counter like delicate glass, making sure the item inside is safe. In silent urgency, I push the bag closer to her. She sighs again, but the brightness of her smile increases.

Then, she begins to open it. 

Every movement is painfully slow. At least, that’s what it feels like. I silently pray to the heavens above she likes it, because I don’t know how I would back myself up if she despised it. I then lean, prop my elbows on the counter, and watch her open it. 

It all speeds up, slows down, and reverts to normal speed at once. The next thing I know, she’s reaching into the package, eyes glimmering with expectancy. She pulls out the present, and the excitement replaces with what resembles mild surprise. 

“This is…” She trails off. The corners of her eyes crinkle in the smallest of smiles. In her hands is a smooth, round white mug with thin light blue stripes. On the front is a simple image of a pink rabbit. A wave of relief washes over me. If anything, she looks rather pleased. 

“I’m sorry it’s not much. I just felt bad for the broken mug and making you...cry. I know you said I didn’t have to apologize, but I couldn’t do that. I saw this when I was shopping and Mutsuki said you would like it and I had to get it and I remembered last time and—” I snap my mouth shut. I never thought I was one to ramble, but this morning has surprises up to my neck. “…Yeah.”

I bite my chapped lower lip and watch. She hasn’t said anything else. Her eyes are trained on the mug, which she’s turning around thoughtfully in her hands. Her expression frustrates me, because I can see the heavy sense of—nostalgia?—in her eyes, and it hurts. 

“...Well,” she starts slowly, “I can’t use this for this cafe, if that’s what you were suggesting. I actually already got. It’s nice of you to give this to me, but you should keep it.” 

“You don’t like it?” The words run straight past my thought process and out my mouth. 

“No, it’s great!” she protests suddenly. “On the contrary, I love it. It’s just…if you bought this for the café to use, we can’t use it.” I blink in surprise.

“Actually, I didn’t buy it for :re. It’s a gift from me to you. It’s more of an apology than repayment of the broken mug, really,” I say with a small laugh.

“But, still—” 

“Please accept my gift. I wouldn’t use something like that home, Tou—” I bite hard down my tongue. She flinches and nearly drops the cup. “…I’m so sorry. I haven’t even asked for your name and especially after last time…” I sigh softly. “I’m sorry, miss.”

She exhales sharply. “No, it’s alright.” She closes her eyes for a second. “I’m Kirishima Touka. And you are?” Like a rock dropped into a still pond, her voice wavers. 

"I'm Sasaki Haise. Nice to officially meet you, Kirishima-san." 

"And I you, Sasaki-san," she smiles. "Nice to meet you too." 

Something tugs at my heart to see her expression. So beautiful, yet so tragic. It reminds me of looking at a slightly wilted flower. While the beauty is still there, the wilted petals can’t grow back.

The sweet, sad softness behind her happy façade hurts. Even when I tried to make her a little happier, it still didn’t end with my desired goal—her genuine happy expression.

"Hey." The words are out before I can stop them. "Are you available this Sunday?"

Her eyebrows arch and her eyes widen in a surprised expression.

"Yes, actually. Why do you ask?"

"Well..." A lump grows thickly in my throat. My words have never been smooth. "Well." I scratch the side of my head. "Would you like t-to go somewhere with me, then?" My voice comes out almost squeaky at the end.

She looks even more surprised than she did a second ago, if not entirely shocked. A sudden heat crawls up my back, wraps around my neck and blemishes my cheeks. It’s more difficult than I expected to keep a relaxed face. Kirishima-san opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

The silence seeps in, filling in the awkward gap. Frankly, I feel so undeniably hot it's hard to care about the silence.

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It’s really quiet in here.

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"Yes, Sasaki-san, I would love to go. What time’s good?”

Oh thank heavens above she said yes.

. . .

“Hey, Sassan! Did ya know ‘bout us not having work on Sunday?” I shift around on the couch, letting my tense back rest. Shirazu calls from the kitchen, eating dinner with Mutsuki.

“Yep,” I say. I straighten my circular glasses, which almost slip off the tip of my nose. “I meant to tell you earlier, but I guess it just slipped my mind.” My gaze flutters down at the papers in my lap.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a day off, so we should do something!” Mutsuki suggests. My heart clenches and plummets into my stomach. “Where’dya wanna go?” 

“Hey, guys,” I say quickly, “wait—” 

“Zoo, maybe? I don’t give a shit, as long as it isn’t one’athose girly mall thingies.”

“Guys!” I quickly slap my papers onto the table and scramble over to the kitchen. 

“That’s fine. I don’t really care either, as long as we can go with everyone!” Mutsuki grins cheerfully. Guilt stabs me in the chest, and I stop midway.

“…Guys?” I croak out. 

“Yeah?” Shirazu says. Mutsuki gazes curiously. I resist the urge to groan. They hear only when I don’t yell. The smell of irony reeks.

“Well…” I trail off, finishing my sad shuffle to the kitchen table. “The thing is…well—y’see…” I hang my glasses on my thin shirt, sigh, and scratch my chin. “I’m busy that day.” 

“Busy?” Shirazu asks. “With what? It’s not like we gotta work, and we’re not on any cases right now. ...Right?” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” I admit. “The thing is—I’m going out with a friend that day.”

“Who is it, Sassan?” Shirazu wonders. “No offense, but we’re kinda your only friends, other than some at the CCG.”

“No, I have other friends!” I protest. …Even Mutsuki looks disappointed. “Okay, that’s a lie, but I’m pretty sure she’s my friend and we’re definitely going out. No, I mean, not going out as we’re in a relationship! I mean we’re going out somewhere.” I’ve been tongue-tied more and more recently.

“It’s a girl?!” Shirazu and Mutsuki shout in unison. Their eyes shine likes little stars and sky rocket out of their seats. Oh, no, I didn’t mean to specify the gender… 

“Y—Yess,” I choke out smoothly as possible. “She’s a girl, but we can be friends, too.” 

“Is that why you’ve been going out to :re more often?” Mutsuki shoots suddenly. The statement almost makes me choke on oxygen. A lame comeback dies in my tight throat. I was so sure I was hiding my trail well. “Wait.” He gasps. “Are you seeing that waitress?”

“No!” I scream. “Okay, no, it’s her, it’s the waitress!”

“You liar!” Shirazu snaps, angrily pointing his pointer finger at me. I flinch back. “This isn’t just a friendly meeting!” 

“W-What’re you talking about?” I force on the most genuine smile I can muster. My head’s practically drowning in all this panic. 

“You can’t hide the truth from me, Sassan,” he laughs hauntingly. He strikes another daring pose. “This is most definitely, most certainly, most positively—” he smiles widely, “a date!” His last word rises and flies above my head glaringly. 

With that, my soul leaves me.

The next minute disappears in a distant blur. There’s the sound of someone stomping rapidly up the set of stairs, hollering a name, and then a door slamming open. There’s a brief silence, and then a scream that would make babies proud.

The sound of pounding stairs returns and then a short blur appears in front of me. 

“Maman!”

Saiko?

She gasps, resting a hand on her heaving chest. She stumbles and catches herself on the fridge. “I,” she breathes, “am shocked I didn’t hear ‘bout this. Are you dating?” Her pigtails are all roughed up and fly-away strands are sticking out everywhere. Her cheeks are flushed pink. 

“Saiko, calm down,” I say soothingly. “I was going to tell you all about it. And—no, we’re not dating!”

“You’d had better told us about it, ‘cause this is really important!” They all shout. 

“Is it really?” I sigh. They nod sharply. “Well, I suppose you know now. Sorry I can’t take you guys anywhere, especially on our day off.” 

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Shirazu laughs. “I don’t even care about romance and that crap, but for some reason, I feel really happy for ya! Congrats!” 

“I’m not getting married, silly,” I roll my eyes just a little. 

“You may as well be!” Saiko says in disbelief. “You? Going on a date? You’ve never even had any romantic urges,” she murmurs. “Luckily, I’m a love expert.” 

“But, Saiko,” Mutsuki protests, “you’ve never been in a relationship before--” 

“I’ve been in relationship before (with fictional characters)! I know all about the dates. The heartbreak.” She smiles lazily. “Especially about what you should wear. C’mon, we’re gonna get you some good clothes.” 

“What?!” I exclaim. “But it’s already seven!” I don’t have time to go shopping. I have to go over my lines! “Sure, I don’t have any special for tomorrow, but I’m sure I can dress myself.” 

“Sure, your work suit doesn’t look so bad on you, but you can’t just wear your work clothes,” Saiko points out. “Besides, stores don’t lose until—what, 10? Hey, this is the first time I’ve gotten out of my room willingly in a long time, and I’m gonna make it worth it. Can you get a taxi, Maman? I’m gotta change.” With that, she was gone. 

“Saiko, I don’t have time!” I yell weakly. There’s no response. My head spins suddenly again. I take back everything I said about this being amusing. Well, if I don’t call the taxi, then we can’t go. Then, I hear soft, monotone ringing. “...Mutsuki, Shirazu, who’re you guys calling?” 

Shirazu has a phone held up to his ear, and Mutsuki leans his ear close to the phone’s speakers. 

“...Calling a taxi?” 

An unbelievable gasp escapes my throat. “Guys,” I begin weakly, “think about this for a minute. Is this really necessary?” 

“Yeah. It is.” Saiko is suddenly standing next to me, clad in baggy sweatpants, converse, and a thick sweatshirt. “Let’s get going.” She pulls me by the wrist, and before I can do anything, we’re heading into a clothing store. 

“Alright, listen here, I have the perfect thing for a tall guy like you…” 

I groan loudly. 

I should’ve just left on Sunday without telling any of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, i keep forgetting to update here! All the current chapters are up on fanfiction.net (i have the same username). Sorry about that!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first post on Ao3, but not my first fanfic. Touka and Sasaki/Kaneki give me more emotions than I can imagine. This was originally gonna be a one-shot, but it got a weird amount of views, so it's a multi-chapter fic. I'm not so sure how many more chapters I'll have. I'll upload the next couple chapters soon. Thank you!


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